


in the low light i was free

by GraceEliz



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Pet Names, can't fkn believe i did this, i am gonna be. over here., semi-public teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceEliz/pseuds/GraceEliz
Summary: “Cody!”He laughs as he catches you in his arms, swinging you around in rapidly dizzying circles. Your breath mingles between you, full of delighted laughter, feet flying out behind you. “I’m so glad to see you, cyare,” he tells you, “cyare, ner'cyare.”
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	in the low light i was free

**Author's Note:**

> doing my mother Mary Shelley proud this came to me in a dream it's the most sex thing my ace brain has ever dreamt  
> Thanks kooks for tagging it I would not have handled that at all.

“Cody!”

He laughs as he catches you in his arms, swinging you around in rapidly dizzying circles. Your breath mingles between you, full of delighted laughter, feet flying out behind you. “I’m so glad to see you, cyare,” he tells you, “cyare, ner'cyare.”

Hearing him wrap his tongue around the words of his chosen-language is beautiful, mostly because you know how hard he must have practised to be comfortable using them for you. You curl your hands around his face, tracing your thumbs under his eyes. There are dark tones to his skin you don’t approve of, a gaunt tightness to his face that makes his cheekbones sharper than you think they’re supposed to be, but you wouldn’t know. You’ve never seen a clone well-fed before. When he smiles, his cheeks crinkle, his eyes lighten into something closer to amber than brown.

“Have you been okay?”

“Put me back on my feet and I might tell you,” you answer him, only to squeal when he swings you around his shoulders – he could throw you with one arm and you would let him because you know he would catch you.

He sighs happily once you’re settled on his back, arms hanging over his shoulders and those impossibly strong hands hooking your thighs. Like a cat, you snuggle against his warmth, relishing in the oven-heat he emits even through his jacket. “Missed you.”

“You look good. Who gave you these?”

“Jacket off my General, after a raid,” Cody tells you without hesitating, “jeans off Bly because they’re not soft enough. He’s just fussy. The shirt is mine.”

You tap his collarbone gently. “Oh, leave your brothers alone,” you scold.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Now then,” he bounces you on his back and you can’t help giggling, certain that everyone on the street can see how absolutely in love you are, “Where are we eating?”

An inappropriate comment rises out of the gutter of your brain, but you bat it away easily. None of your filth is tolerated unless it’s in private, with an allowance for you being drunk, not that he generally lets you be outside of your little home where you feel safe (you never drink when you go out. Who needs to?). “The same place as last time. The bartender likes you,” you decide, try to waggle your eyebrows. Cody knows you more than well enough to know you’re doing it.

He hoists you up so you’re on his waist, all that delightful muscle moving underneath you like nothing you ever imagined before you met him. “We met there.”

“That’s why she likes you.”

“Fair enough.”

You slide down to the ground outside the café, but he never once takes his hands off you, the both of you half-fearing that letting go physically would let the other one float away. “My mama keeps asking when you’re going to visit.”

Cody glances down at you as you pass under his arm into the café. “And where does mama live?” he asks curiously.

“Alderaan, but rural. It’s got to be nine hours from the international spaceport, even if we could get there,” you answer a bit sadly. Neither of you can just up and go for a visit, what with him the Commander of the most famous regiment in the whole GAR and your job, but the dream is nice. The idea of taking him home to Mama and the steep green hills of the land you still see when you close your eyes is but a beautiful dream.

With one of his wide hands spanning the base of your back – the whole base of your back – he guides you to the counter. “Shame. Do you think the peppermint cake will make me ill?”

A scoff escapes you before you manage to control it. “If you eat half as much as you did the first time you came in here, yes,” you tell him firmly, remembering how he and one of his brothers had demolished three or five pieces each and within fifteen minutes had obvious regrets. They hadn’t thrown up, but it had been seemingly close.

“Two caramel chocolates, please,” he says to the droid and hands over the credits before you manage to get yours out. “From the General, he said to tell you to send me home by midnight.” Yes, you can imagine that being something the dryly sarcastic General Kenobi would tell his trusted second. “First time you saw me I ate too much, and now we’re here together.”

“First time Mama met my father she ate two portions of chips because he didn’t want salt on his.”

He laughs. “What, really?”

You nod and hum, taking the drink the droid serves up with a bright smile.

His hand dwarfs your own, fingers large enough you can’t really curl yours around his like you want to, but that doesn’t matter. He’s told you before that seeing how small you are against him, as tall as you appear sometimes with all your noise, makes his heart hum. Tugging you to your usual table, the one half-hidden by the partitions between the stalls, Cody slides along the bench into the corner where he can observe the café and the street through the windows. Your drinks are set down beside each other, a matched pair. He tugs you sideways onto his lap, pats your knees when you swing your feet onto the seat, and crosses his arms over you, pulling yours with him so you’re tucked and wrapped like a child in a blanket. You are enshrouded, sheltered and protected, surrounded by that otherworldly warmth that follows all of the soldiers wherever they go. Your drink, you notice, is a handful of shades brighter than his eyes, and you wish it was darker just because the more things that are Cody in the universe the better life would be. Maybe then you’d see him enough places not to miss him when he went away.

“Have you missed me?”

You sigh and relax into his chest, feeling his voice shiver down your back. “I always miss you,” you answer truthfully. “I miss you as soon as you leave my sight.”

He smiles against your temple, wide enough you feel his teeth. “Stars, I love you.”

Surely happiness like this is impossible. “I love you too,” you swear quietly, leaning your head onto his shoulder where muscle feels more like bone, swelling and shifting as he raises his hand to card through your hair. Your eyes drift closed. His strength is such that he holds you with no effort, cradling you into his chest. This is where you belong. If the galaxy were to relight, to set up in flames all over again, you’d still find your way back here, you’d know the sound of his laugh and the flex of his thighs even out of all his brothers.

He begins to slowly hum, following the tune of one of the jazz-songs you love best, one that never fails you make you want to dance. It always starts with your shoulders, bobbing to the opening bars, before you invariably start rocking your entire body in mimicry of the steps. With a soft laugh he loosens his hold to give you more space for your bouncing, but right now you don’t want it – only him, his strong arms, his body pressed to yours. Cody doesn’t let up the humming even though he slows down in distraction when you press your body harder into his, his large hands flattening against your hips with your own hands trapped between his skin and the rough of your skirt. You start up yourself, humming away to make up the layered melody. You two do this so often you barely need to concentrate. Maybe that’s why you let him pick you up and move you, settling your back to his chest, still wrapped so tight and warm in his arms even though your ear isn’t pressed to his collar anymore.

Like this, you feel all of him against you, and you spare a glace down. Your skirt has ridden up, and your leggings show up easily against his jeans; have you always been this much smaller than him? Is one mission truly enough for you to have forgotten that, even sat like this splayed over him, his thighs are so much larger and harder than your own? Perhaps so. Or perhaps you’re just so gone for him that every time anything like this happens it feels like the first, all this awe and adoration.

Cody is powerful.

His hand rises up and skims the base of your throat, almost wrapping around it for a moment as he slides his fingers under your necklace to free up a few stray strands of hair. He could snap you. He could kill you. He could do anything to you.

It is as though a switch is flicked in your brain: suddenly you don’t care a single Corellian ounce about however many people are in the café, about the fact you’re now more or less grinding on him in public like a ten-credit girl in 79’s. All that matters in the deep vibration of his voice against you, the floating safety. Between you and the rest of the galaxy is this mountainous man who is finally beginning to soften down from battle-ready and underfed; between you and the rest of everything is nothing but solid muscle and the deep slow hum.

“Easy, baby,” he whispers, and the noise that leaves you is too quiet for you to hear. Cody hears you, and his silent laugh moves his entire body – and your own.

You can’t decide if you should close your eyes or leave them wide wide open as they are, because slightly in the reflective scrolling across the back wall you can see yourselves. He decides for you, lipping at your ear, and you moan. He hums, not to the tune but in comfort, to ease you as though you’re some fractious animal. You feel like one, hips twitching erratically, completely obsessed by the hardness of his flexing thighs against your own. Please touch me, you want to say, but his arms are crossed over your hips holding you stilled and it is perfect, so perfect.

He sighs, and some part of you wants to cry, because the moment is over. “Drink your drink, baby.” He barely has to stretch to pick it up, shifting you again so you’re back how you started, trembling. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he breathes against your temple as his lips trace along your skin like he can’t help himself, “sweetest girl. I know, I’ve got you.”

Against your will, you feel the sob rise up from where it’s been nestled since he slipped out of bed those months ago with the tenderest kiss you’ve ever received from him, spilling into your lap and his hands.

“Everything about you makes me so hard,” whispers your Cody, so quiet you barely hear him, “and yet the most perfect thing you can do to me is just let me hold you. Take a drink, darling.”

You do, struggling not to get overwhelmed by the fact you just almost made a spectacle of yourself in the café you have most of your dates in. He curves his hand around yours to guide the glass into the crook of your knees.

“That’s good, good,” he whispers. “I don’t mind you crying.”

Tears trickle down your cheeks as you just let it all out very quietly, softly sobbing. Catharsis is soothing, the best way of releasing all that horrible knot inside that has done nothing but grow tighter since you last saw him. “Sorry,” you sob miserably.

His arms tighten, and he must see that something about it is grounding, because he doesn’t let go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, I’m sorry, I know it makes you uncomfortable,” Cody earnestly tells you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

You wipe your eyes on your sleeve. “Can we go home when we’ve finished our drinks?”

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps.

He carries you all the way home despite your protests, claiming some empty thing about needing to get in his workout and being so used to battling that going without the exercise will make him itchy. In return, of course, you whisper an already-forgotten quip about him being able to have quite the workout waiting for him; the sharp slap he delivers to your thigh ensures everything else is completely wiped out of your brain.

You want to be touching him always.

“I was talking to Gregor,” he says, carefully nonchalant, “and he had a good idea.”

You hum.

“He said I should – oh, kriff,” he cuts himself off. “He said I needed to suck up my courage and just tell you, so. I’m telling you now.”

“Telling me what?” you ask in a whisper, tucking your face into his neck.

Cody takes a deep breath, muscles expanding against your chest. “I love you, and I consider myself married. To you.”

Your eyes widen.

“It’s a clones thing, he says. That we find our person and just sort of attach ourselves to them.”

He loves you enough that he considers himself married to you.

“Are you okay?”

You snap back to yourself with a blink at the concern in his voice. “Yes, sorry, sorry, I’m good. You – what do I have to do? To be married to you? Do you guys have your own approaches to getting married?”

His shoulders relax at your answer. “No, we can just say the mando’a words, I guess? That would be enough for me. Gregor said he and his wife – you should meet her, you’d love each other – just sort of agreed to be married, and the General did them a ceremony a month or two back.”

That’s an idea. “The General could do our wedding?”

“Sure,” he says. “We’re here.” Cody doesn’t let you down, but instead ruffles in his shirt and pulls a key on a string; it’s your key, the house key you gave him ten weeks ago on his second-to-last visit. He carries your key around his neck.

And he can hold you up on one arm.

The key gets dropped in the bowl as soon as he’s kicked the door shut behind you, and then you’re swinging around to face him, toes so-slowly returning to the floor as you drape over his chest. “Well, hello soldier,” you gasp, and his groan trembles through you both.

Clothes, suddenly, seem completely unnecessary, with an urgency you’ve never felt before. You shove Cody’s jacket onto the floor and have your hands under his shirt almost faster than he manages to get your coat unbuttoned.

“Easy, my girl, cyare, easy,” croons your warrior. Under your fingers you feel the ridges and different-smoothness of scar tissue, and the swell of his impossible muscles.

“Want to hear you humming again,” you sigh, brushing your hands up his spine to cradle his shoulderblades. Every part of Cody is so strong, so powerful, so unnatural.

The song spreads between you, whispered into what little space between your lips remains. How can a man so wreathed in muscles as solid as any of your bones moves so smoothly? You’ve been trying to sway your hips like this for three months, and here he is effortlessly providing a lead for you. As he always does, in every single thing you do, catching on faster than you can dream of

“Little one,” he breathes into you, lips catching on your bottom lip just for a moment. “Mm, cyar’ika.”

Pressing into him, you follow his actions, hardly supporting yourself at all. Cody is strong enough for both of you and it’s perfect.

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” he coos, sliding long fingers up inside your shirt. “Let’s go to bed,” and he picks you up and you just – let go. There is not a single thing could possibly harm you now.

**Author's Note:**

> this goes out to my hoes at the foxiyo server


End file.
